


Kiss of Death

by Jeyfeather1234



Category: Midsommar (2019)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Conversations, During Canon, Forehead Kisses, Implied Sexual Content, Manipulation, Neck Kissing, Non-Consensual Kissing, POV Second Person, Paralysis, Present Tense, Secret Relationship, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22407457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeyfeather1234/pseuds/Jeyfeather1234
Summary: You are the puppet and he is the puppeteer.Takes place shortly after the discovery at the chicken coop.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Kiss of Death

Cold fingers pry your eyelids open as a wet rag cleans your face. You try to yelp from the sting of the liquid but find that you can't move. Everything feels numb except for your eyelids and brows. It takes you a moment to recognize who's looming over you.

_Pelle._

"Hi," the Swede greets, smiling warmly. You stare back at him fearfully as the memory of the chicken coop returns to you. His family killed Simon and left him there to rot. Had they done the same to Josh and Mark? Would they do the same to you? You feel the sting of betrayal and anger more than the liquid from the rag. You want to yell at him for deceiving and bringing you here. You want to strangle him. You want to run as far as you can from this hellish place. But you can't. "I thought you'd still be asleep." Pelle sits beside him on the bed and continues. "We didn't want you getting lost in the woods but don't worry. It won't last much longer." You're angry and confused. Why did he bring you here? What happened to Mark and Josh? You didn't care much about them but what were you going to tell your professor when you get back? How were you going to graduate college without that thesis? Pelle leans forward and kisses your temple. "There's nothing to fear," he assures, running a hand through your hair. "You've contributed your seed to the Hårga and won't be burdened by Dani's grief ever again." He strokes your cheek with a sickening tenderness that makes you want to squirm. You can only whine in protest. It's an awful, pitiful sound that makes you feel pathetic but what else can you do? Pelle frowns slightly before kissing your cheek. "Oh, Christian, min lilla docka," he murmurs in a silky voice. "You really are pitiful." He hummed, slowly trailing his fingers down your chest. "I almost loved you," he admits, pausing to stroke your lower lip with his thumb. You want to bite it. "Do you remember when we first laid eyes on each other?"

You do. You don't want to, but the memory is still fresh in your mind. It'd been at this party on a school night. You were trying to hit on this hot girl who'd passed by and had had way too many drinks so naturally, she turned you down. You stumbled a little to follow her to the drink stand before bumping into Pelle. You were too tipsy to orient yourself so he had to catch you before you fell. As embarrassing as it to say, you thought he was hot. Maybe it was because of his voice, or his hair, or the alcohol, but you immediately started hitting on him. He seemed to find you appealing because he drove you home that night. You don't want to think about what happened after that.

"I miss being intimate with you." You feel your stomach drop, remembering the time you went behind Dani's back and made out with him in his apartment. But it wasn't like you _liked him_ or anything. He was the only person available at the time who wanted to do it with you. It wasn't _really_ cheating since you didn't want him like that.

Still, your cheeks get warm as he kisses your neck. You don't want this. You don't want _him_. You want to leave but Pelle knows how to make you his bitch and you're physically helpless. He makes you whine like a dog and soon he's on your lap, kissing and touching you as if you weren't even dating Dani. You can't appease him, not that you want to, but it doesn't matter. There's no passion in his touch or expression; his eyes are blank and it deeply bothers you. You wonder how much he cared about you. _If_ he ever cared. You don't want to think about why he brought you here in the first place or why he was even seducing you after... _that_. You don't think you want to know.

He kisses you on the lips one last time before pulling away and sprinkling the weird voodoo powder on your face. He closes your eyes and taps your nose. "Adjö, husdjur," he says with a hint of triumph before leaving the room which is now unusually cold. You have a feeling that something bad is about to happen.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Min lilla docka_ = my little puppet  
>  _Adjö, husdjur_ = goodbye, pet
> 
> I have created a sinful ship that nobody asked for but got anyway.


End file.
